Saturday, July 22, 2017

Mech Gladiator Writing Snippet 2


I have been pulling words out of my head. Here's writing snippet, part deux.
The italicized worldbuilding text is carried over from the first snippet, but don't let that bother you.

In other news, I've established this tiny subgenre as...(brace yourself)...

 Transdimensional Noir Mech Gladiator Speculative Pulp Fiction 

Or TNMGSPF, for short. ;)

* * * * *



“...and in our countdown of the Top Ten most spectacular arena defeats in recent memory, here's number four, Jered Kramer piloting Judah at Berva Proxima.”
“That's right, Chred, we've all seen it, over and over, but let's look again at the footage. Experts are still perplexed to this day why Kramer, who came from the fighting clan of the Fourth Gate Kramers, just threw caution and tactics to the wind with a straight-boost charge to his death.”
“His fellow human, Masamune, was waiting for him, though, Denk, and the result was not pretty. They never recovered Kramer's helmet camera or interior cockpit footage, you know. It was completely destroyed when first the open-field cannon shot, then that power claw-”
“Oh!”
“'Oh' is right, Denk, look at that thing sink into the cockpit, right up to the elbow. You can't even read the sponsorship stickers, Masamune's in so deep.”
“Truly dread, Chred. You hate to see a fighter as accomplished as Jered Kramer go out in a flash-and-crash.”
“Truly. Oh, that's not nice, pulling the corpse back through the hole and washing it down with the jets. That's got to affect one's afterlife, I don't care what you believe.”
“That's become one of Masamune's signature moves, Chred, and this is the match where he earned the 'Desecrator' nickname. Up next, arena fans, stay tuned for the top three in our countdown...”


Jessica Kramer was not in the mood for this bar, yet here she was, waiting for the next tap on the shoulder and the inevitable ethanol-breath challenge. For the next wink and nod between two mech pilots as they looked in her direction and shared a joke. For the next snide remark about her brother or her now-fallen family name.
The Fourth Gate Kramers.” It was once a badge of honor, a phrase that paid. Feh. That and a five-credit debitpress could get you a beer in a place like this. In a chipped glass, of course.
“Jev, another, please,” she said to the bottender.
“Mech Pilot Kramer, you advised this unit that you are due for a match tonight at Red Iridium Arena. Your customer profile preferences indicate you are to be served only four beverages on fight day. Do you wish to override?” said the beverage attendant.
“Yes, please. I'll be fine, thank you, Jev.” She pressed her glowing thumb to the proffered data pad. It was easy to be rude to drones and bots, even though Jev's rudimentary AI appreciated the courtesy at some small level of semi-sentience. Being polite to a machine might be silly, but it showed humanity, which was a scarce quality in this little pocket dimension.
The glass was one of the models that filled from the bottom up through a one-way valve. Jessica watched the level rise in thirsty anticipation. This was the last one, she promised herself. Well, maybe the one after this one...
Something in the room shifted. One hand accepted the beer, the other went for the grip of the pistol on her ribcage.
“Sentients and sapients, I greet you in the old ways. May the light of the eight gates shine upon this establishment,” said an smooth electronic voice from the doorway of the bar. A large metallic pod filled most of the doorway, its gleaming body lined with low pulsing lines chasing each other. Two bodyguards in heavy armor stood on either side of the pod, their weapons pointed at the bar patrons.
“We wonder if there are any among you gentlebeings from the house of Kramer, of the Fourth Gate?” the voice said, almost like a purring coo. “If so, we have a proposition of a business nature.”
Jessica smirked, and pulled her hand from the butt of her revolver, and looked over her shoulder to the Gatekeeper in his floating armored pod. Both of the bodyguards already had their weapons trained on her. “Mikralos, is that you, you payment-stretching, Gate-damned pustule, after all these years?” she said, lifting her fifth beer to her lips.
The Gatekeeper's reinforced life chamber was a gleaming pink pearl shrouded by the rest of the protective silver chassis, filled with life support fluid, useless, flabby limbs, and an oversized cherubic contortion of a human face. The Gatekeepers were not an ancient race, not like the Szran->click< or the Redfolk, but they were a powerful one. They controlled Junctionworld and the Eight Gates, after all. Mikralos may look like a grotesque baby in a glass ball floating on a giant silver jelly bean, but he packed more firepower and advanced shielding than a Concordium main battle tank. The bioprinted Model Ninety-Nine bodyguards were almost for show.
“Ah, daughter of the Fourth Gate Kramers, Jessica. We greet you in--”
“--In the old ways, yes, yes, Mikralos. Spare me the Gatekeeper formalities and 'in the old ways' crap. What do you want?” Jessica said.
“Very well. Direct and to the point. Very Human.
“You know we are still in possession of your sibling's combat armor. Collateral for his unpaid debts, of course,” the Gatekeeper said. Jessica bristled and turned her bar stool to face the hovering overlord. Mikralos's bodyguards flicked off the safeties of their weapons with an energy-charged whine.
“Yeah, you still own what's left of the family ride, I know. Jered's death broke my father, tore the heart out of my mom, and busted us out. It's a sad story, sure,” Jessica said. She tried keep a nonchalant tone in her voice, but her knuckles were turning white around her beer.
“Not to mention the accompanying murder-suicide of your parents when insolvency collapsed your valiant and once-prosperous team. A series of regrettable occurrences, indeed, mech pilot Kramer,” Mikralos said. “We understand you're still piloting in the Light Exo Leagues? Limited Ordnance class, yes?”
She nodded.
“How quaint,” Mikralos said.
She wasn't sure if the reminder of her parents' death or her diminished status in the minor leagues of the mech arenas stung more. She began to stand up from the stool, and the bodyguard weapons edged closer as she rose. “Why you encephalitic, atrophied waste of a--”
“--Consider your next words carefully, mech pilot. We have come to this lowly, loathsome place to conduct business, not to recount your tedious and pedestrian past miseries. Sit down, and consider this token,” the voice coming from the Gatekeeper's armored module said with a stern tone. A smooth metal claw emerged from the skin of the Gatekeeper's pod. It pulled a cylindrical object from another compartment in the silvery hull. The proffered object was scorched on one side, dented on another, and had an array of wires and conduits sticking out of it. A small red light glowed in the middle of the scorched patch when it dropped into her hands.
“You...you pulled Judah out of the wreckage,” she said, slumping to her stool as she touched the blistered paint.
“Yes, pilot Kramer, the recovered command module from your family's mech. 'Judah.' Arkathan circuitry. A very handsome component in both structure and capability. 'They don't make them like that anymore,' we believe is the parlance of your home world. A shame, but since they were wiped out, no one has been able to replicate the miniaturization genius of Arkathan electronics,” Mikralos said.
“I know, trust me. My current suit's brain is a bumbling idiot that can barely keep me walking and shooting at the same time. It's a basic module, but it's all I can afford. Barely semi-sentient, and non-learning. I haven't even bothered to--” Kramer said.
“We offer this to you, human, but not lightly. Do you wish to hear our terms?”
Jessica took a long drink from her beer glass, draining it. She looked over her shoulder to the bar bot.
“Jev, set me up another, please. Put it on the kind Gatekeeper's tab, here.”
She took the new glass, blew the foam off the top in the direction of the nearest Nine bodyguard, and said, “Let's hear it, Mikralos.”

* * * * *

Best,
JBR

Friday, July 7, 2017

Mech Gladiator Snippet 1








“You have one purpose here, human. Fight. Fight, and die, and we'll sell the composite sensory feeds to millions of worlds in our trade networks.
So, enough of this 'contracts' and 'rights' pablum. Do what we brought you here to do. Fight.”
-Unknown Gatekeeper

“All systems online, Jered. I am ready to fight for the honor of this house.”

“Good, Judah, I am too. Last diagnostic checklist reads green across the board. Let's go get some,” Jered said.

“Agreed. Let's 'get some,' as you say. Your father liked that phrase, too,” the smooth robotic voice said.
Jered squinted as the artificial red sunlight poured through his mech Judah's tinted canopy as he and his armor stepped through the grand archway. The sides of the towering grand entrance were carved with elaborate flourishes of stone alien vines surrounding battle scenes of raise relief, like giant coins. Some depicted death, others victory, others the portraits of the arena's greatest fighters. He hoped to add his name and visage to the laser-carved portal someday, even if the place was just a bottom-tier dump and slaughterhouse. Today's victory would mean that they were half-way to freedom.

“Yeah, that's probably where I got it from, Judah. The old man. I wish he was here to see me, now,” Jered said.

“Your father does not approve of this arena, Jered. He and Mikralos never saw eye to eye,” Judah said.

Pock marks from projectile weaponry were scattered along the arch. They were never repaired. The Gatekeeper who ruled over Berva Proxima Arena, Mikralos, thought it gave the place character and an edge of danger, keeping the stray round impacts uncovered and the targeting safeties disengaged. Jered thought it made the place look shabby and run down, and the management reckless, but he and Judah's contract of indenturehood was linked to the floating techno-blob of a Gatekeeper and the arena he presided over. Besides, he was more interested in making a scorched stain on the floor out of his opponent's armor than putting errant rounds into the walls.
It was the same type of giant portal that his family’s armored gladiator team had strode through for generations, even if it wasn't in the normal social stratus that they were accustomed to fighting in. Despite his fall from grace, Jered was a Kramer. He was a killer clad in steel and hydraulics, piloting the helm of the family's inherited death machine. Jered had bested seventeen other pilots in death matches here at Berva, all in the pursuit of paying off his steep debts. He ran his fingers over Judah's control yokes, flipping off his weapon safeties as he moved the giant armored monstrosity into a slow, thundering jog.

His display panel remained red and black. The safeties weren't disengaging.

He hit them again, trying to bring his weapons online. Judah's control displays blacked out, and “Pilot Compromised” began flashing over and over in his heads-up display.

Jered thumped the side of his cockpit's electrical control panel. 

“Gate damn it, not now, Judah!” he said.

Static and electronic noise poured out of Judah's control audio feedback. Jered unbuckled his harness and began to pull circuit chips out of the control panel, trying to hard-boot. If he lobotomized the armor, hopefully Mikralos or the staff would notice something was wrong. Hopefully, he could stop the match. The arena's crowd roared as Judah came through the arch. The shielding they were behind blocked noise and shrapnel, but speakers all along the ring of transparent armor boomed the applause and cheers of a thousand different species.

Judah continued its slow, plodding gait to his engagement point half-way to the center of the arena. The red lights in the arena's ceiling turned bright white for maximum broadcast illumination. Small camera drones flew in strangled orbits around Jered and his armor, and the main spotlight in the arena's armored camera turret flooded over him.

The ring announcer's voice boomed an introduction in a number of languages and data streams, but Jered continued to work at Judah's controls to no avail. When the semi-sentient control computer failed to respond, even to him stomping on the large red emergency/duress button, Jered opened his microphone to address arena control. 

Nothing.

Jered and Judah came to a stop on a floodlit circle of the steel arena. Judah was now in autonomous mode, but the external lights that signaled that condition were not flashing. Judah drew its large chain-saw sword as a salute to the Gatekeeper Mikralos in his floating capsule. The red and white mech across the arena, bristling with cannon and missile launchers, did the same with the power claw on its left arm.

A white pulse from every light in the arena signaled that the match was starting, and Jered Kramer was smashing his fists bloody against his armored cockpit glass. No one saw him, though, as the thick blast shields slid over his transparent carapace, and he screamed.
He pulled the ejection handles on either side of his headrest, but they came off in his hands. The enemy mech was facing off against him and Judah, now, taking cover behind a cluster of large granite rocks that dotted the mile-wide arena floor. The skylights returned to red, and small exhaust plumes flowered bright yellow from a cluster of launch tubes on the enemy mech's back.

Judah, still not under his control, sidestepped behind cover the instant before impact. The missiles tracked into the face of the wall barricades the twenty-foot-tall mech sheltered behind. The two-foot-thick composite barricades had a half-dozen glowing spots on the far side of the wall, facing him, the result of shaped charges that came just short of drilling through the edifice.

Jered bellowed in fear and rage, yanking and bucking against his controls. The sturdy armor which had borne his family into conflict for generations continued to rebel. If he made it through this, he was going to kill his crew chief, Prath. The anti-sabotage checks were supposed to keep crap like this from happening.

Prath would have to wait, though. The hijacked mech popped exhaust nozzles from compartments in its lower legs, and Jered could hear the microturbines begin to spool up in the mech's large backpack-like dorsal housing.

“No, no, Judah, what the hell are you doing? Why aren't you listening? You're going to use up all the reaction fuel too early, and we'll be sitting puddleflaps! This is a gate-damned nightmare!”

“Je-red...This. Not...not...Me... >bzzt< Exterior Overri-” Judah's audio speaker managed to say in jerking tones between bursts of garbled electronic gibberish.

“Judah! Judah, initiate control system purge! Blow the main reactor manifold bolts! Vent it!” Jered said, screaming to his console.

Jered and Judah were now screeching across the steel deck of the arena, dodging bursts of autocannon fire and missile volleys. The drone cameras were hard-pressed to keep up with the jinking and maneuvering, and the jolting acceleration forced Jered to push his arms back through his seat's restraints. The enemy mech was looming, the distance closing.

Judah's chainsword deployed by itself into the mech's right manipulator hand, the whining keen adding to the flood of noise coming from the turbines. Jered watched the fuel level drop to just over a half tank of reactant, and the jets cut out. The massive combat robot rolled as its feet caught purchase, and it came up out of the headlong controlled tumble with its giant sword arcing overhead, as if to cleave the opposing mech-gladiator's armor in two.

But the jets had cut out short. Jered saw the distance was too far to engage in close combat. His involuntary ride was about to come to a sudden end. The red and white mech brought its main gun to bear. There were no rocks, there was no barricade, no protective cover at all. Time slowed. Jered felt Judah still charging for the kill, but they weren't close enough. None of it was enough. The barrel came up, almost so that Jered could see right down the maw of the cannon. It looked as like a water pipe a construction crew had installed near their habitat when he was a kid. The picture he kept pegged to his dashboard, the one of his kid sister, had been knocked loose during the furious and useless charge.

He reached for the photo. The cannon muzzle flashed. Jered's world was reduced to cold pain as he bucked against the seat's restraints. He looked down. His lower body was a shredded wreck, and the cabin was filled with flame and smoke. The last thing he saw was the red and white power claw breach through the blast shields, through the armored glass, through the display screens, and through his chest. Blackness swallowed him as the crowd roared and Judah continued to jibber a mindless staccato into his dead ears.

* * * * *

“...and in our countdown of the Top Ten most spectacular arena defeats in recent memory, here's number four, Jered Kramer piloting Judah at Berva Proxima.”

“That's right, Chred, we've all seen it, over and over, but let's look again at the footage. Experts are still perplexed to this day why Kramer, who came from the fighting clan of the Fourth Gate Kramers, just threw caution and tactics to the wind with a straight-boost charge to his death.”

“His fellow human, Masamune, was waiting for him, though, Denk, and the result was not pretty. They never recovered Kramer's helmet camera or interior cockpit footage, you know. It was completely destroyed when first the open-field cannon shot, then that power claw-”

“Oh!”

“'Oh' is right, Denk, look at that thing sink into the cockpit, right up to the elbow. You can't even read the sponsorship stickers, Masamune's in so deep.”

“Truly dread, Chred. You hate to see a fighter as accomplished as Jered Kramer go out in a flash-and-crash.”

“Truly. Oh, that's not nice, pulling the corpse back through the hole and washing it down with the jets. That's got to affect one's afterlife, I don't care what you believe.”

“That's become one of Masamune's signature moves, Chred, and this is the match where he earned the 'Desecrator' nickname. Up next, arena fans, stay tuned for the top three in our countdown...”


I'm about 10000 words into it.  We'll see where it goes.  I still have The Peacekeeper to finish, too.
Best,
JBR

Thursday, June 22, 2017

Gorilla Animech Now For Sale From Rebel Minis

The Gorilla Animech from Rebel Minis is now available for sale.

This big brute can be found here, at this link...
http://www.rebelminis.com/gorillamech.html

Here are some assembled pics.




The Gorilla Animech is a pretty technical build, but there is an assembly guide in downloadable PDF form that will be provided at checkout.

Enjoy!

Best,
JBR

Sunday, June 11, 2017

Animechs From Germany

A few Animechs from Rebel Minis, painted up by Olaf Dittmar in Germany.



We're worldwide, Ma!  ;)

Shared with permission and thanks to Olaf.

Best,
JBR

Sunday, June 4, 2017

Wildcat Fever: The .50 Hardy Ross Magnum

I have had an idea knocking around my head for a while, now.

Basically, a big bore cartridge.  This would be a thumper, and probably cost ten dollars a round in a five-thousand-dollar custom rifle, but I just want to see if it can done.  Eventually.  When I have that kind of cash to blow.

Which definitely isn't right now, trust me.

So, I want to take the .505 Gibbs, a famous African hunting cartridge, and shorten the case to 2.950 inches.

I would open the neck up to be able to take .510 projectiles, which would enable folks to shoot surplus .50 BMG projectiles and an assortment of other projos in the .510 diameter category.

Overall length, digitally, at least, would be in the neighborhood of 4.580".

Yes, before you ask, it's meant to give the human race a chance in the looming robot/raptor/robo-raptor apocalypse.  ;)

JBR Cola for scale.  .505 Gibbs in the middle.  .50 HRM is the big'un.


Best,
JBR

Thursday, June 1, 2017

Scorpions Scorpions Scorpions

I started digitally sculpting as a freelancer in 2001.

Ed Pugh, of Reaper Miniatures, recruited me to help with their new CAV mecha game.


One of the initial sculpts was the Borsig-Spline Scorpion, a mean little scuttler.

Fast forward a couple years, and I was designing a larger version of the Scorpion CAV for my licensed line of 1/60th scale (28mm Tabletop) metal and resin CAV kits under the Hellion Productions label.

Here are some new renders of that beauty...



It was a multi-part kit with a lot of articulation.  Each of those legs could twist off for storage, and the turret was able to elevate and traverse.  There was also a full detailed cockpit with flip-top canopy.

It was the victim of cruddy casting, and the guy never returned my master.  It broke my venture into retail, but it made me focus on freelance sculpting.  Hard lesson learned.

Matt, the CAVBoss at the time, wanted to make a tabletop 1/160th scale version of the resin kit, like we did with the resin 1/60th Dictator, which became the '70 Dictator.  Alas, CAV was fading away, and the plan fell through.

CAV is back, now, offered by Talon Games, who bought the license from Reaper.

Many years later, I was approached by Bob Mervine to sculpt a neo-steampunk Spider and Scorpion, among other mechanical animals.  They were for a 1/300th scale (Epic Tabletop) game he had in the works called WildFire.

Here's how that first version of the ScorpionMech looked...


Older approval shots.

And with my newer render settings...

Now, of course, I've been given a chance to do some really wicked Scorpion Mechs in 1/100th scale (15mm Tabletop) through Rebel Miniatures as part of their Animechs line.  Rebel Mike was kind enough to buy the line from Bob and give me a shot at resculpting the Spider, Scorpion, and Wolf.  I was able to bring the designs up to date and rework them so that they were compatible with the RUM-V line of modular products.  A very cool update.








 


Well, that's my long and complex involvement with mechanical scorpion mechs!

Thanks again to Ed Pugh, Bob Mervine, and Mike Renegar for the opportunities and work.

Best,
JBR

Sunday, May 21, 2017

New RUM-V Wheels For Your Vehicles, Too

Per another user request (Thanks, Mr. Hamner), I sprued together six wheels from the RUM-V files, and put them up on the Shapeways store for Rebel Minis Digital Direct.

Here they are.

https://www.shapeways.com/product/45WB2G9MM/rumv-six-pack-of-wheels?optionId=62807470


This will let you create a wide variety of vehicles, including some of the following.  New wheels are digitally mounted under the old pre-RUM-V Combat Flatbed hull.







Enjoy!

Best,
JBR